


Put a Ring on It

by Eyes_of_a_Tragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol is the Real Demon Here, Brief Character Cameos, Don't Drink and Wed, Hunt Gone Wrong, Jewish Wedding...maybe?, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Morning After, Tumblr Prompt, complete and utter crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 11:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eyes_of_a_Tragedy/pseuds/Eyes_of_a_Tragedy
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple hunt for a shojo demon. But the amount of alcohol Bobby and Rufus have to consume to see it knocks them for more of a loop than either could have expected.





	Put a Ring on It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GertieCraign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/gifts).



> I posted a prompt game on my tumblr, and GertieCraign requested the Bobby/Rufus pairing with the line "Don’t panic, but I think we might have accidentally gotten married.” And then she laughed her precious little head off.
> 
> Thanks, GC. Love you, too!

Bobby wakes to a door banging into the wall. He groans and attempts to open his eyes but abandons that plan pretty quickly. The sun burning into his eye sockets will just have to wait. He can hear scuffling around the room, and if it wasn’t for the familiar pattern of footfalls, he’d be up with a gun aimed for a kill shot, hangover be damned. As it is, he just rolls over and buries his head under the lumpy motel pillow. Shuffling papers and Rufus’s panicked voice are still way too audible for the pounding behind Bobby’s eardrums

“Bobby. _Bobby!_ Wake up!”

He waffles his left hand over his shoulder in the direction of Rufus’s voice and pinches his fingers together in the universal Shut Your Cakehole signal. He’s surprised when Rufus grabs his hand and yanks him up into a sitting position.

With his trademark flare for drama, Rufus delivers the blow. “Bobby, don’t panic, but I think we might have accidentally gotten married.”

Bobby hears the words but isn’t quite processing yet.

Rufus’s tug on his ring ringer gets his attention, though. He finally opens his eyes enough to squint at the metal band on his ring finger and the matching one Rufus is wearing. His mouth drops open, and he’s working up the saliva to protest when Rufus shows him what’s in his right hand.

Bobby slowly reaches out to take the small certificate-sized paper. After three double takes and a thorough reading of every single word, it still says the same thing. At 6:16 the night before, he and Rufus had been joined in unholy matrimony by one Rabbi Elvis Cohen. He slowly looks up at Rufus and says, “We were married by a Jewish Elvis impersonator?”

Rufus just stares at him, dumbfounded for a few seconds. “Dammit, Bobby! I tell you we’re married and you first concern in Elvis?”

Bobby huffs, “Of course not, you idjit! But it’s still worth mentioning.”

Rufus follows up with: “Last thing I remember before waking up to this shit was being on a hunt for a shojo demon. I’m going to guess we found it if we both got wasted enough to take a trip down the aisle.”

“We should probably check into that, just to be sure.”

Rufus just nods and says, “I’ll go make a few calls. You get up and put some damn clothes on.”

Bobby glances down at his naked chest then wriggles a bit under the covers – okay, he’s wearing boxers – and sighs in relief. He looks up to see Rufus exiting their hotel room and notices the second bed is still perfectly made. Either Rufus didn’t sleep in this room, or…

Nope, not going there.

He rolls out of bed and stumbles to the bathroom. Morning necessities taken care of, he brushes his teeth and gargles for an extra minute with the little bottle of mouth wash on the counter. Walking back into the room, he stares longingly at the coffee maker. The lurch in his stomach has him reaching for one of the complimentary bottles of water instead. When Rufus returns, Bobby is dressed in his standard everyday uniform of jeans, tee shirt, and flannel. Rufus confirms the shojo is dead.

“I also called the chapel and spoke with the Rabbi, who apparently is female. She said, yes, she did perform a ceremony for Robert Singer and Rufus Turner last night and wished us happiness in the future.”

Bobby yawns. “I’m too tired for this crap. I need food.”

They find a diner and discuss the situation while feeding their hangovers the lumberjack breakfast with every type of meat you can imagine, served with eggs and hash browns. Rufus substitutes four slices of turkey bacon and asks for fruit instead of the ham. It’s all pretense, as Bobby damn well knows. Rufus is perfectly well aware of the fact that the cook is going to fry the hash browns on the same surface as all of the pork products.

After their waitress comes to check on them and assure they’re happy with the food, Rufus bluntly states, “Basically, our options are to get it annulled or stay married. My people don’t do divorce.”

Bobby digs his thumb and index finger into the bone of his eye sockets. “Well, which option do you want to choose?”

Rufus’s head whips back and his voice hitches an octave. “What do you mean, which option do I wanna choose, Bobby? We got married when we were drunk!”

“Well, yeah, but did you bother asking the good rabbi what the process of annulment entails or how much it’s going to cost,” Bobby queries.

Rufus’s stuttered “no” is plenty of answer. “Wait, so are you sayin’ you think we shouldn’t get it annulled?”

Bobby’s response is a resigned sigh. “I’m sayin’ I ain’t got the time or patience to deal with the bureaucracy of digging our asses out of this stupid mistake. Besides, it ain’t like you don’t already live in my house when you’re in town anyway.”

Rufus _humphs_ and looks Bobby dead in the eye. “So, we’re really gonna do this?”

Bobby just shakes his head. “It ain’t like things are gonna be any different. We’ll still hunt, together and separately. It’s not like I’m gonna strap you down to my kitchen and only let you out when I need a sandwich and beer. We just do what we’ve always done. Just with rings on our fingers.”

Rufus’s expression goes from confused to perplexed. “So, what you’re proposing is a marriage of convenience?”

With a roll of his eyes and a bobble of his head, Bobby states, “Whatever you want to call it. We’ve been partners for years. Might as well get some tax benefits from it.”

Rufus chuckles under his breath and responds with a smirk. “Alright, you old curmudgeon. I’m in, but you’re gonna buy me a better ring than this cheap ass silver.”

“Hey, that silver might just save your life some day, princess.”

“Whatever. I’ll melt it down into a bullet and wear it over my heart as a sign of your devotion. No, you’re going to get me something that will stand up against the shit we deal with on a weekly basis. Tungsten, maybe? Or titanium. Something simple but classy, like me.”

Bobby snorts and asks, “Are you done now? ‘Cause I’d like nothing more than to see the edge of this town in my rearview mirror.”

“Aww, don’t be such a grump, Bobby.”

“Just finish your food, Mrs. Singer.”

“That’s Mrs. Singer-Turner, but you can call me ‘sweetheart’,” Rufus snaps back.

Bobby just shakes his head in defeat and shoves a forkful of scrambled eggs in his mouth.

Rufus smacks his hand down on the table and bursts out with, “Hey, do you think we kissed?”

The half-chewed bite of eggs plops back onto the plate, and Bobby has never been happier to be so hungover and unable to remember the night before. He can feel heat rushing up his neck, the horror causing his blood pressure to skyrocket.

“Bobby, are you blushing?” With a growl under his breath, Bobby swears he's going to kill his partner.

He slaps two twenties on the table, scoots out of the booth, and heads for the door.

He can hear Rufus scrambling to catch up. “Aww, Bobby, come on. Don’t be like that.”

Bobby turns and shoves a finger in his face. “Don’t you spill a word of this to the boys. Last thing I need is those two finding out about this.” Then he turns and walks out the door, climbing behind the wheel of his sturdy old pickup.

Rufus pops in to the passenger’s side and responds in kind. “Don’t worry. They’re not gonna hear it from me.”

*************

It’s two years later, and Sam and Dean are in town for a few days, helping him research the goddamned apocalypse, when it happens.

Dean comes barreling in to the living room where Bobby and Sam are nose-deep in angel lore. He’s waving a familiar piece of paper that’s been laminated and should have been stashed at the back of his gun case.

“Bobby, when the hell did you and Rufus get married?”

Sam spews beer all over a priceless tome of Enochian sigils; Bobby just shakes his damn head in resignation and rubs the black band on his left hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Gertie, my love, you have absolutely no idea how much fun I had with this. It flowed like Johnnie Walker from my brain. I enjoyed myself, and these two old farts, immensely and hope you do as well.
> 
> Thank you so much for the prompt! It's been a joy to work with. ;) *smooch*


End file.
